


The Crown

by OneNeedsToo



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Gen, Intrigue, M/M, Modern Era, Romance, Royalty, Spies & Secret Agents, Suspense, Violence, taekook, yoonmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneNeedsToo/pseuds/OneNeedsToo
Summary: Min Yoongi was dangerous. He knew it too. But he just couldn't resist, not even for a moment [Royalty-Bodyguard-AU]
Relationships: J-Hope/Park Jimin (past relationship), Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin, Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had a little tiff with this website, but I'm over it now. I've decided to put these stories back on this site and continue working on them. I'm going to re-upload the chapters and see if there's still a taste for them. Let me know what you think!

**_It was said that the Lords of the Infinite were as vivacious, beautiful and magnetic, as they were deadly, and calculating_ **

* * *

**Chapter 1**

This one was dangerous. 

What an _interesting_ development. 

He was not so much the picture of studious loyalty that was _supposed_ to be displayed by the direct security attaché of the Emperor, but rather something else. Whereas Jungkook was the consummate solider, the byproduct of years of training by the best of _the best_ of the armed services, this man had the look of a normal mercenary. This one looked like he would kill first, and ask the questions later.

This one looked as if he would take his position _literally._

"Your Imperial Majesty," Jungkook bowed deeply at the neck, before gesturing to the still kneeling man beside him. The man was dressed in the full red and blue dress uniform of the Imperial Guard. It was a presumption on Jungkook's part, to dress the man in that uniform, but a nice touch. "May I present Captain Min Yoongi, of Your Imperial Majesty's guard, the only man that I would have full confidence in, if he were to take over my duties." 

Jimin tapped his finger against the solid oak arm of the throne, not taking his eyes off the kneeling man at the foot of its steps. Jungkook was a childhood friend, to him _and_ his brother, and as such, he felt that he could often take certain liberties.

Perhaps he could, Jimin certainly wouldn't _punish_ him for it, he hadn't when he'd been the heir to his grandfather's throne, and that wouldn't change now that he was sitting _on_ that throne. 

But this was new, even for Jungkook. 

His grandfather had been dead for a month, and consequently, he'd been the de-facto Emperor since then, due to be officially crowned next week. Jungkook had been the head of his grandfather's security, and now that his charge was dead, he was looking for a new charge.

Jimin wasn't about to deny his request, but that had changed the moment that he heard _who_ wanted to take Jungkook as the head of their security. 

His brother, Taehyung, the Prince Imperial. 

Jimin was prepared to turn a blind eye to _that_ relationship, because he saw it exactly for what it was, but he wasn't going to put his brother's boyfriend in the position of being his head of security. He thought that the matter had been settled, and that Jungkook was content to either stay in service to the Imperial Family, to him, or to an extended member of his family, or go, and perhaps manage the personal security of some high-ranking dignitary or official. 

But he'd obviously been mistaken. 

"And where are _you_ going, Captain Jungkook?" Jimin asked his friend, his tone light. 

The gaze he leveled onto Jungkook was frosty, but the younger man merely smiled, and rearranged his hands so that they were clasped behind the small of his back.

"His Highness, _The Prince Imperial_ , has stated his interest in having me take over his security," Captain Yoongi was probably clueless, still kneeling, not allowed to make eye contact with the sovereign until ordered to do so, but Jimin wondered if the man could detect the smug tone in Jungkook's voice. "I thought it prudent to present to you a candidate, your grandfather was dear to me, but I cannot serve another sovereign." 

Jimin _knew_ what that meant. 

His grandfather had been aware of their relationship too, and while he was perfectly supportive of it, he had the same reservations that Jimin had. Now his grandfather was gone, and Jungkook probably figured that he could flex his influence with more ease, without interference from the crown.

" _Oh_ , you might very well be released from my service, but _perhaps_ not into the service of The Prince Imperial," Jimin took on a very faux-saccharine tone, and he made no effort to hide it as he cast something between a smile and sneer towards his soon to-be _former_ friend. He then turned his attention to the silent solider at the bottom of the steps, and tapped a finger against the throne one more time. "You may rise, Captain." 

It was like a scene out of a movie. 

When the man, Yoongi, _Captain_ Yoongi, first raised his head up, and locked eyes with Jimin, and Jimin felt _everything_ else go into soft-focus. Those eyes, piercing, his lips pursed, he was a distinctly striking man, and he felt a blossoming sensation travel down throughout the entirety of his body because of it. It was then that he knew that he should have turned him down, he should've denied him. 

But when he stood to his full height, and the impact of the absurdly attractive solider, in his gaudy military dress uniform, hit him, he knew that the pull to him was _irresistible_. 

When Captain Yoongi saluted him, he wondered, idly, if this was how Taehyung felt. 

_God forbid._

"Your Imperial Majesty," Yoongi's deep voice was clipped. 

The blossoming sensation only grew stronger. 

This one was dangerous indeed, more danger than the crown had faced in centuries. 

"Captain Jungkook obviously thinks very highly of you," Jimin began, laying his hands on the two oak arms, wrapping his hands around the two intricate ends. "He's risking his career, and quite possibly, _his freedom_ , to get you an audience, so, with that being said: why should I accept you?" 

At his thinly veiled jab at Jungkook, a very slight malformation of the pursing of his lips came into sight, and Jimin knew that he was repressing a smile.

Even standing side by side, mirroring the posture of Jungkook, the differences were visible. Yoongi looked like the boy that broke the dress code at school, whereas Jungkook was the boy that gave the teacher an apple. 

For the first time since his father died, since the day his life was irrevocably attached to the crown that would soon be placed on his head, he felt alive, really, _genuinely_ alive. It felt like his life was his again, he didn't feel that constant need to run away, to pretend to be someone else, in some far flung corner of the Infinite Empire. 

As if he could actually do that. 

_But what was life without a little escapism? Every now and then at least._

"I couldn't possibly comment, sir," Yoongi responded, and this time, the man openly smirked. "Especially if my esteemed colleague has fallen out of favor with you." 

Jimin's brow rose, "Esteemed?" 

"A polite term," The other man's response was amusement, but still incredibly even. 

He fixed the older man with an openly appraising look, and cocked his head in thought. 

He had grown used to the idea of Jungkook being his security attaché, but he would require a far more hands-on approach from the person that eventually took that post, far more than his grandfather ever had. The idea of his oldest friend trailing his every movement, it felt as if that added an extra-layer of security, it brought him comfort, it made sense in his mind. 

But he was clearly going to have to reconsider. 

Jungkook had been young, but effective, not exactly a commoner, but not exactly a member of the aristocracy. He'd been the perfect candidate for his grandfather to place in such an esteemed position, but things had changed now. His grandfather was gone, and he required _different_ attributes in his personal security officer.

He cared not for suitability, if the court had a problem with this attaché being common, they would simply have to suffer.

No, what he _needed_ was someone who was effective, effective in ways that he feared Jungkook wouldn't, he needed someone to kill for him. 

Kill to protect him. 

And there was something in this man's eyes that told him that was exactly what he was going to get, where Jimin's happiness, where his wellbeing, would be his _only_ concern. The words didn't have to leave his mouth, he didn't have to send the thoughts along to him, and they didn't have to be spoken aloud, because they were implied. 

It was exactly what he wanted – what he _needed_.

There would be no lax security around him, he would not fall victim to the hubris that had consumed his parents. For decades, centuries even, the idea that anyone would attempt to murder a member of the Imperial Family was laughable, at best. The Lords of the Infinite, until the moment that his parents died, with one well placed bomb, had never suffered a death like that, not since the wars of consolidation that had been fought _centuries_ ago.

“You understand that I will require a more hands-on approach from my attaché,” Jimin’s voice possessed _all_ the tones that he’d been bred to cultivate since the day he learned to walk. “Are you prepared for that commitment?”

The unspoken command was clear, and Jimin somehow knew that the other man could understand, he understood that if he were to accept the position, he would be possessed completely, and utterly, by the sovereign.

Jimin would accept nothing less.

Perhaps, that was how he knew, on a subconscious level, that he would _never_ be able to have Jungkook remain in the post. Jungkook belonged elsewhere, no matter how much it pained him to admit it, even to himself. He had his fears, and maybe, just maybe they had some basis in reality. A basis of them possibly being able to find themselves coming true.

They were the same fears that his grandfather had about Jungkook and Taehyung.

The man’s eyes were still utterly piercing, “I’m prepared for _anything_.”

Jimin resisted the urge to gasp, and with skill that would impress even his late grandfather, he schooled something of a smirk onto his lips to cover it up.

“A bold claim,” Jimin raised a brow, and then turned to Jungkook.

He’d made up his mind, and though he would never give Jungkook the satisfaction of knowing that he’d been right, he had to give his friend something of a conciliatory gesture.

“You stake your reputation on this man?” He asked.

Jungkook nodded, “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“And, if I were to release you into the service of the Prince Imperial,” His tone was almost light, almost teasing. “If this man were to fail me, despite his claim, would you stake a possible position _servicing_ Taehyung?”

He narrowed his eyes at the other man, and sent him a challenging look.

The threat was clear, and Jimin made no attempt to hide it. 

Now that, _that_ was a threat that he would carry out against Jungkook.

* * *

“And then he went on to say that if I let so much as a fly land on your head,” Jungkook explained, with an almost relived grunt, as he savored the feeling of the first thrust into the smaller man. “...he would have my head.”

With a pull out, and another thrust in, Jungkook latched his teeth onto Taehyung's exposed neck when he threw his head back onto Jungkook's shoulder.

No matter how many times he did this, no matter how many times they did this, the thrill hadn’t faded. It didn’t matter that the entire household knew that they were together, even _that_ thrill hadn’t faded between them.

The fact that it was now his duty in life to trail Taehyung’s every move served to only add fuel to the fire.

It only served to send another shiver down his spine, one that pressed him to thrust in faster, faster, and faster - until Taehyung was a blubbering, quivering mess trapped in his arms.

“How... _thoughtful_ of him,” Taehyung's response was a small, breathy whisper, highlighted with gasps at both ends of his words. 

Said gasps only made Jungkook smirk, and thrust harder.

He couldn’t explain what had drawn him into this, a relationship that would’ve resulted in his death in another day and age. His family had a long association with the crown, one going back hundreds of years, but that had never extended to a familiarity like _this_. 

In another age, it was a capital crime, for those not of the court, to even _look_ at a member of the Imperial Family. He was sure that he couldn’t possibly fathom the severity, or the _creativity_ , of his punishment if he’d been caught doing this, even only a few decades ago.

Thankfully, the Infinite Empire had undergone a thoroughly regimented program of modernization since those days. 

So, being of _common_ blood, he wouldn’t have his guts ripped out for looking at a member of the Imperial Family, let alone the current heir to the Infinite Throne. 

Much less having an intimate relationship with said heir.

“Yes,” Jungkook grinned, and reached up to pull at Taehyung’s hair, still ruthlessly stabbing at his prostate. “Your brother loves you.”

The sound of Taehyung’s delighted cries filled the foyer that they found themselves in, and it was music to Jungkook’s ears as he wrapped an arm around other man’s midsection, and picked up his pace.

Taehyung could be as loud as he wanted, the servants knew better than to disturb the Prince-Imperial, especially in the hour that he took his private audiences.

Anyone that got close to the door of the apartments could hear him, but, again, it was long since known among the household to avoid the apartments when he met with Prince Taehyung.

It wasn’t quite the picture of normal domestic bliss that Jungkook would admit that he’d dreamed of before, but it was as close as they were going to get. 

_‘For now’,_ Jungkook mused wryly as his eye strayed down to where they were connected, and watched himself smoothly piston in and out. 

* * *

They were everything that he had ever pictured them being.

As was the state with everything in the palace, everything was plush, everything was posh, and everything was a deep, deep tyrian purple. When he had informed the Emperor’s personal secretary that he had been made the security attaché, he’d been told that the sovereign technically couldn’t change the state of the palace, he could only go along with it.

He’d also been told, thankfully, that the décor did not befit the personal taste of Jimin.

When the court moved to the Winter Palace, he could expect something much less ostentatious, and that he simply had to deal with it.

The only good thing about this place was that he knew the terrain.

The private apartments of the sovereign were enclosed within the central court yard, and there was no conceivable way that an enemy could penetrate the palace itself to get in a potshot at the Emperor. At the very least, they would have a fairly advanced warning to eliminate the intruder.

The same could not be said for the outside world.

Yoongi realized, as he looked down to his new desk, and looked at the files, and files, of people under surveillance, that he would need to exercise an almost unheard level of vigilance. In a way, it was surprising, it shattered every single illusion that he’d ever had about the supposed, near complete, popularity of the Imperial Family. Standing there, he understood that there were many, many, _many_ people that wanted the crown toppled.

“Surprising, isn’t it?” His voice was soft from the door.

Yoongi did a double take, and found the Emperor himself standing in the doorway of their adjoined room. The large, panoramic window behind him was bathed in the light of the setting sun, providing the Emperor with something of an utterly ethereal glow. 

He bowed at the head, “Majesty.”

“ _Jimin_ ,” The other man insisted.

It took everything that he had within him to not snort in front of him, out of violation of every single respect that he owed the other man.

It was a little more complicated than simply referring to the Emperor of the Infinite in such familiar terms, it went against everything he knew.

But on the other hand.

“… _Jimin_ ,” Yoongi responded, after a moment of hesitation.

The smile that he was rewarded with could only be described as utterly breathtaking in its intensity.

Jimin, he’d noted with great interest, upon coming face-to-face with his sovereign, had proven the age-old legend of the Lords of the Infinite possessing a beauty that was haunting.

As beautiful as women, more-so even.

If the history books were anything to go by, a large part of the magnetism that had allowed them to conquer continents was rooted in their beauty.

“Captain,” Jimin’s voice was soft. “…you will keep me safe from them?”

He looked back down to his desk, at the stacks of dossiers that were filled with the profiles of a seemingly endless cadre of people that wished Jimin harm. There was only so much that one man could do, only so much that a team could do, and on the face of the situation, it appeared impossible to fulfill that request. But he turned his mind back to the vow that he’d given, back in the throne room, earlier that very day.

And he understood, in that moment, the earnestness with which the Emperor had pressed him on dedicating himself, completely and utterly.

 _Park Jimin_ , Emperor of the Infinite, the absolute ruler of virtually the entire planet, the man that could singularly define the fate of billions, and move mountains with a movement of the fingers, was living in abject fear.

Yoongi understood now.

He _understood_.

“Yes, Jimin,” Yoongi promised him, with a single nod. “I will.”

Jimin smiled, and turned on his heels.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**And they never forgot their enemies, or their place**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Jimin grimaced.

Simply laying his eyes on it sent memories rushing back into the forefront. Visions of a hazy room in the Imperial Palace, flashes of when his father and grandfather broke with tradition and allowed him to try it on. Jimin could remember being so _excited_ to wear it. He had seen it as a grand symbol of his family's absolute authority, a tradition that he'd been honored to be a part of at the time. It didn't occur to him at the time that the Imperial State Crown would weigh ten whole pounds, and that the set was two or three times bigger than his head. 

When he tried it on, he was simultaneously weighed down to the ground, while the crown itself swallowed his head. He could still remember the burning embarrassment when both men pulled that symbol of authority from him, and laughed affectionately.

That sense of embarrassment, coupled with the closeness that he’d felt with his father, and grandfather, cemented it as one of his most cherished memories.

Yet, somehow, the fact that it was now passing _directly_ onto his head, and technically entering his ownership, made him feel as if those memories were somehow invalidated.

"I want point-by-point security around the Emperor at all times," Jimin wanted to tune Captain Yoongi's orders out, but he couldn't help but stay tuned in as he continued to gaze at the Imperial State Crown. "If something takes a shot, if someone _thinks_ of shooting, it gets shot, those are your orders."

Jimin leaned closer to the center stone that stat atop of the golden set.

Its _exact_ worth was unknown, though Jimin would wager that its value was comparable to the gross domestic output of a small _nation_. Hundreds of carats, the diamond drew your eyes to it almost instantly, and the thousands of smaller stones that adorned the set were as pebbles in the contrast. It was easily one of the most valuable diamonds ever discovered on Earth, and perhaps that was why it rested on the State Crown of the Infinite. It was a fitting home, a fitting place to fit a perfect, and utterly flawless, stone.

It was only when the Dean of the Imperial Household began to sputter with unabashed _rage_ that Jimin felt he needed to intervene. The older man obviously didn't notice his shift in attention, because as he turned, he saw him glaring daggers at his security attaché.

The Dean was a proud man, someone who cared for the Imperial State Jewels, and acted as the official who crowned the sovereign during the _actual_ coronation. However, beyond those two duties, he held no more power than any other individual.

Perhaps maintaining care of the official state jewels made him feel important.

Jimin would remedy that.

"Your Excellency," His voice was cool, and he restrained his satisfaction as the older man turned from Yoongi, and quickly bowed to him. "For as long as you've served the Crown, you should know that the security attaché only cares for its best interests."

The man was a blubbering sycophant, but he did his job well.

"Your Imperial Majesty, this man shows nothing but _impudence_ for the hallowed traditions that come with the coronation," There was a blue blood vessel in the neck of the Dean that seemed to grow with every syllable. "I insist that you remind this peas-…”

But he paid no heed to the man, only shifting his gaze to his ever-silent guard.

It had been less than a week since Captain Yoongi had assumed control of the massive security apparatus around him, and if he was being entirely honest, he could already see the differences between Jungkook and Yoongi.

It had started with a full-level purge of the old guard, and replacement with new guards handpicked by him. It was a small thing, but it felt like a supremely protective gesture.

It might have been foolish of him to do this so early in their relationship, but there was something about the other man that made Jimin trust him, almost implicitly. There was no greater trust than to trust someone with your life, and Jimin already trusted him.

Jimin tore his eyes away from the stoic mask of Yoongi, and openly glared at the Dean, “The only _peasant_ in this room that needs to be reminded of their place, is _you_.”

The only response that he gave, initially anyway, was outrage.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” He was treading dangerously on disrespect. “I must-…”

Jimin held a finger up, “Know your place, Captain Yoongi oversees all of my security, and his word, his _orders_ , are to be obeyed as if they came directly from me.”

“I command it,” He finished, turning from the Dean, to look directly at Yoongi himself.

He tried to convey everything that was meant to be conveyed behind that order.

Trust was not something that came easily with him, he’d been taught to trust only family, and those that were considered family. As much as they publicly professed to not feel that way, the approach that his family took to the world was very much that of a standoffish mentality. As many loyal subjects as there were to the crown, there were those that wanted to see, not necessarily the destruction of his family, but most certainly the abolition of the crown his family wore. Of course, there were those that could only see the end of the monarchy coming with his untimely death, or whoever wore the title of Emperor. 

And not only his death, but the murder of his entire family.

That was who Yoongi was charged from protecting him from.

The undermining of the far-less lethal detractors of the monarchy could be dealt with by the intelligence services, but it was purely this man’s job to destroy his enemies.

Captain Yoongi merely nodded, and turned back to the Dean.

As did Jimin.

He watched, silently, as it finally sunk into the man’s mind that he’d been overruled by the one man who could overrule everything.

Jimin was the sole human being alive that was above everything, even above the law, because, for all intents and purposes, he was the law.

It was fascinating for Jimin to watch and see how fast someone could go from being an arrogant, prideful fool, to becoming an obsequious toad.

“As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty,” The Dean bowed at the neck.

“Go,” Jimin waved a finger, and turned back to the crown. “Carry out his orders.”

The Dean bowed, and as quickly as he had shifted from his arrogance into his subservience, he departed the room. Properly chastised, he knew that the prideful Dean would not make trouble for his attaché again, though he knew he’d privately be fuming.

As he turned back to the pedestal, and was once again captured by the hypnotizing allure of the crown, but he did not fail to feel his bodyguard's gaze on him.

And he did not bother to ignore the tightening of his gut. 

* * *

Yoongi would be the first to admit that he came from a humble home.

It was only through his parents work ethic that he'd been able to get into the Imperial Military Academy, it meant needing to survive long stretches on almost nothing but the bare minimum. When he graduated, and was sent out into the service, he hadn't hesitated in paying them back tenfold, _when he could._ That being said, Yoongi could've hardly imagined the position that he now found himself in. He doubted that he could truly repay his parents for the sight that he was now seeing, it was impossibly valuable, being that he was quite possibly the first true low-born in the history of the Infinite Empire to directly witness it.

Three days out from the coronation, and everything was proceeding on schedule, and the security was shaping up to his liking. He had also been trailing Jimin’s every move throughout the whole ordeal, but he'd found that none of the rigmarole that they'd been put through was nearly as interesting, or nearly as provocative, as _The Robing_.

In the center of the room, protected by a large shroud of sheer _tyrian_ -purple silk, which was suspended at the ceiling, and was supported by a large full-body vanity mirror, Jimin stood as _naked_ as the day he was born.

Yoongi, as of yet, hadn't been exposed to the sight of his Emperor naked, but he hadn't failed to notice that the two female attendants, who were studiously adorning him with the coronation jewelry, had studiously kept their eyes fixed on their task, rather than gawk at his open nakedness.

His glances had been cursory, so far. 

"Leave us," Yoongi's head suddenly snapped back from the doors, a habit from school that he hadn't lost over the years, and to the shroud. The Emperor's tone was soft, and completely teasing. "There are some things that one prefers to do one’s self."

"But, sir, you're not dressed?" Yoongi heard one of them gasp in shock.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I can dress myself, thank you very much," Jimin's tone took on an imperious quality that Yoongi could not honestly fault him for, but one that he would find that he would have trouble obeying implicitly, even if it was being used by the one being that had a genuine right to use it. "Leave us, and leave the shroud open."

Yoongi chuckled at that, openly, and he made no attempt to hide it from Jimin.

For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to have that sort of power, and to have the ability to use it arbitrarily.

As Emperor, Jimin could, in theory, do _whatever_ he wanted to do, and with a mere word, could turn his wildest fantasy into reality. It was the sort of power that people dreamed of and that people spent their whole lives chasing. It was the kind of power that people _joked_ about. Jimin was born with the it destined into his hands, he was destined to have it the moment he came into the world, and in his time with the younger man, Yoongi had observed that he wielded that power with much measure.

This was different. 

He folded his hands behind his back as the shroud opened, and the two attendants rushed to either side of the makeshift cocoon to pin it back. Yoongi wasn't paying attention to _that_ though, he wasn't paying attention to any external influence.

There, standing in a pool of silk, and finery, was Park Jimin, in all his naked glory, and Yoongi couldn't possibly not stare, because the younger man had already tangled him up.

Yoongi could feel his eyes pulled downward by gravity, taking in every detail of the Emperor's tight, lightly muscled body. Without a single body hair, the contours and curves of his stomach, back and hips made Yoongi dizzy. Tracing every single stone of the diamond chain that was tied around his waist with his eyes, his gaze soon fell farther down his trim, flat stomach. The Emperor's rapidly swelling hairless cock didn't escape his notice as he traced his eyes up and down his supple, muscled thighs, only to land on his backside. Yoongi certainly hadn't lived a pious life, and neither had he been wild. He hardly considered himself and expert, but the way his right palm twitched told him that the Emperor's backside was, indeed, something else, special. 

The lusciously sculpted mounds of his ass made Yoongi's mouth water. 

He quickly forced himself to lock eyes with Jimin, and he found that the entire package was punctuated by a blinding smile as their eyes met in the vanity mirror. Yoongi found himself thinking _impure_ thoughts, he found himself thinking that it could be easy, that it could be _so_ easy doing what the tightening feeling in his groin was urging him to do. Yoongi tried to tell himself that he was reading far too much into it, that he was allowing Jimin's natural allure to get to him and it was setting him down a dark path.

Such as manhandling the most powerful man on Earth into a broom closet and fucking him until _cried_. 

But he was also human, with a human brain, which was capable of fallacies, as well as reading human emotion. What his brain was telling him was that the Emperor was more than aware of the fact that he was being watched. Furthermore, the Emperor was taking great amusement at the expression on Yoongi's face.

The logical part of that same brain was telling him that while Jimin might have been amused by the fact that he'd flustered him, and that Jimin might have wanted him to openly look, it was still miles away from the Emperor of the Infinite wanting to be _touched_.

That wasn't a line that Yoongi wasn't prepared to cross.

Unless he was explicit asked to cross it.

"Care to lend me a hand?"

_Oh._

Jimin was practically purring.

His years at the Imperial Military Academy had taught him the meaning of survival, had taught him to do whatever it took to achieve the goal. He'd once been tasked with dodging live sniper fire on an obstacle course, while avoiding active mines, and the occasion lethal grenade. That exercise was the standardized rite of passage for _most_ graduates: a highly organized attack was simulated, either by a terrorist organization or another state, on the Imperial Family, and namely the Emperor himself. 

Yet that unadulterated pressure, it was nothing.

 _Nothing_ in comparison to this.

"I can fetch one of the attendants to do it, it's not appropriate."

The younger man raised an eyebrow, and Yoongi realized that he'd fucked up.

But instead of the tongue lashing that he expected, one corner of the Emperor's full lips curled up into something of an amused smirk. "You should know by now that if there's a _final judge_ on what's appropriate in this world, you're looking at him."

Yoongi grimaced.

How did one argue with someone that possessed absolute power?

If this situation were only slightly different, Yoongi would wager that he would be beyond thrilled for the opportunity to do what he was about to do, but this wasn't any ordinary person.

This was the Emperor, there was still a segment of the population that considered the person that bore the title a god in human form.

It certainly wasn't a far off assessment from his point of view. 

“Shall I make it an order?” He pressed.

_Talk about topping from the bottom._

He could picture it in his mind, and he wondered, _probably against his better judgment_ , if Jimin was that way with whoever he took to bed. It wasn’t much of a stretch of imagination to visualize the other man carrying the unimaginable power that he possessed into the bedroom. Even as he approached him, Yoongi tried his best to force those thoughts from his mind. Flashes of delicious _smooth_ , taunt skin, sweat and moans, coupled with the underlying thrill of the act itself.

He forced himself back into reality as he finally neared the Emperor’s proximity. He found that he was so close to the smaller man that he could feel the heat radiating off him.

Yoongi tore his eyes away from Jimin’s thighs, and looked up to make eye contact with him through the mirror. The Emperor was staring back, his lips pursed into a teasing smile, his brow still lifted at the corner.

In private, he might allow himself a moment to think on how good those lips would look wrapped around his dick. 

“I’m your humble servant,” Yoongi found that he had to force himself to _grumble_ out the submission.

He found that if he had spoken to the other man without that effort, it might have come out as something of a whisper, or he might not even have spoken.

He looked to the tray beside the naked man, and then looked back to him.

"What first?" Yoongi asked.

Jimin turned and pointed to a set of smooth, silk leggings.

"These," Jimin answered.

Yoongi was a hair away from foaming at the mouth as he picked them up, and quietly took in the texture of the material. They looked like a set of leggings that he'd once observed his mother air-drying on some clothesline the entire day before a job interview.

Except this material, it seemed that there was even something different about these.

Maybe they were softer? A more _luxurious_ material?

Sinking down to his haunches, all too aware of his face's proximity to the pert-swell of the Emperor's backside, he watched as the other man daintily lifted his foot.

_Even his feet..._

Yoongi swallowed, and gently slid the leggings onto Jimin's foot, and gave his left ankle a little tap before he pulled that foot up.

The two followed in that pattern, all the while Yoongi lightly tracing the feeling of Jimin's pert thighs, letting a finger trail just above the rising cover.

Yoongi quickly averted his eyes, and quickly stood up as he pulled them over the mound of Jimin's ass. 

He pretended not to notice the obvious erection that the Emperor was sporting as he turned back to the mirror.

The Emperor wore a smirk.

"Will that be all?" Yoongi asked.

Jimin smiled, and nodded. "You may wait outside."

Yoongi couldn't have excused himself from that room any faster.

He wasn't quite sure what would've happened if he'd been forced to stay any longer.

* * *

Jimin smiled to himself.

Yoongi had been quite correct when he said that it wasn't at all appropriate, but somehow, he couldn't _resist_ the urge. He was aware of the myth surrounding the men in his family, and he was quite accustomed to being on the receiving end of it.

All and all, he would be lying if he said that he wasn't flattered by it, at least some of the time, but there was something about the glint on Yoongi's eye that drove him to take it further.

In theory, he could do what he pleased, and no one could complain.

Countless numbers of his predecessors took male lovers, some never married and remained with their male significant others their entire lives. Others married out of sense of duty, finding understanding women to bare the heirs to the throne.

That was the case for many members of his large family, such as his cousin, Seokjin.

Seokjin, Prince of the Joseon.

His cousin, who was, as of that moment, the third in-line for the throne, had always resented his presence. From the moment Jimin was born, Seokjin had been pressed back further, and further, until he was rendered nearly irrelevant. Perhaps out of some misplaced sense of rebellion, or trying to exercise some sort of control over his life, he took the head of his household, a commoner, by the name of Namjoon, as his lover.

His fiancé, with whom he'd been arranged to be married to since birth, had to deal with it. Jimin couldn't help but pity his cousin, he and his brother were exempt from that burden, and maybe that gave Seokjin further impetus for his hate.

But unlike Seokjin, If Jimin wanted to have Yoongi, _openly,_ he could.

If Taehyung wanted Jungkook, openly, then he could.

But at some point, even they were beholden to the will of political expediency.

* * *

Taehyung eyed the sight in front of him with open disdain.

There was something quite telling about the group of people that were gathered before him, and that was that behind _all_ the glamour, all of the good looks, jewelry and finery, they were all two-faced.

Let it not be said that he didn't take the legacy of his family seriously, he did, and because of that he was inherently distrustful of all those that did not have a direct route to the throne, those that would rather spend their lives waiting for acres of relatives to die to even have a shot at it.

That was the reason why the sovereign tended to keep them at arm’s length, if they knew that little tidbit, he wasn't sure.

He took another sip of his wine, and turned his gaze back onto them.

That wasn't to say that all of them would jump at the chance to oust him and his brother, some of them were quite loyal, or quite content with their status as a minor member of the family.

 _Others_ though, there were others that would cut off their right foot at the first opportunity to reap some sort of financial gain, and exploit the vacuum.

They would cut their nose off to spite their face, they would rather the Empire be scattered, divided, and leaderless, and maybe that was what separated them from him and his brother.

Maybe that was why he despised them.

"His Royal Highness, _Seokjin_ , Prince of the Joseon."

Taehyung's eyes drifted towards the giant door to the ballroom.

And he didn't bother to hide the sneer that slowly curled onto the edges of his lips at the sight of his cousin.

Jimin held him in higher esteem, but not Taehyung, he would not grant him that mercy. As much as the idea seemed absurd to both Jimin, and their grandfather, he would not abandon the idea that Seokjin was somehow involved in the murder of his parents.

There was no proof, there never had been any, and even when the idea occurred to his grandfather, if only for a moment, he had never found proof, and the third in-line for the throne wasn't simply accused of murder without proof.

So, the matter was settled.

But he still mistrusted Seokjin, more deeply than all the other vultures in the room.

"He's pretty," Jungkook leaned down to whisper in his ear.

Taehyung did a double take, and looked back to his companion with a wry smile.

"He is of the blood, _dearest_ ," Taehyung teased and turned back to the sight.

Indeed, Seokjin was famed for his beauty, as much as Jimin and himself were.

Decked out in full-military dress, he bore the old-Imperial insignia of the Joseon Empire, an homage that was quite purposeful in the creation of the title in the first place, and to his left, his ever- _dutiful_ equerry.

Taehyung's fingers curled tighter around the wineglass as he looked away, not wanting to grace his cousin's paramour with a look.

Taehyung couldn't fault Seokjin, once he'd found the slightest bit of happiness, he grabbed onto it, and wouldn't let go.

And unlike most of the family, he wouldn't judge his choice, in terms of the fabric of the man that made his lover. He couldn't judge Namjoon for being common, after all, his own choice wasn’t a high-born.

What he could fault Seokjin for was the fact that he was _married_.

His wife was a nice girl, dutiful, complacent, but perhaps a little too complacent.

Because this was the most important event of the year for a member of the Imperial Family, and while Seokjin and Namjoon were attending, obviously _together_ , his wife was nowhere to be seen. That only furthered Taehyung’s deep distrust of the man, to the point where he would trust just about everyone else in the room, except him

“And who is that with him?” Jungkook whispered in my ear.

“That is his equerry, Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung responded with a bit a smile. “His many duties include managing Seokjin’s schedule, running his household, and satisfying Seokjin in ways that his wife either _cannot, or will not_.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, and Taehyung nodded.

“And where is she?” Jungkook asked.

“Probably with _her_ boyfriend,” Taehyung replied, and turned back to the scene of the Prince of the Joseon greeting members of the family. “Not that I blame the girl, she must get so little satisfaction out of life, she has to seize it where she can, I suppose.”

As far as his interaction with the rest of the family went, Taehyung realized that his significant other’s experience was cloistered to himself and Jimin. He might have been involved in events like this in the past, but he’d been in the _corner_ , on his guard. This was the first occasion where he was front and center, out in the middle of it all, in a place of honor at the side of the Prince-Imperial, a silent, but very _powerful_ gesture.

“Cousin Taehyung!” Seokjin suddenly shouted as he approached the dais.

In the middle of the Grand Imperial Ballroom, the central dais which contained the ceremonial throne of the Emperor, _and_ the Prince Imperial, stood out among the rabble on the floor. It was quite unprecedented for those that did not belong on the dais to approach it _before_ the arrival of the Emperor. Perhaps that sort of disrespect made him loathe Seokjin a little more. 

And as far as he knew, the feeling was entirely mutual.

Blinking slowly as his cousin climbed the steps, with Namjoon following him one step behind,which he _didn’t_ fail to note, he watched as the older man stopped, and knelt before him.

Every move was perfect, down to placing of his hands on his knee, and the proper bowing of the head, Taehyung didn’t expect anything from less from his slippery cousin.

As he pulled himself back from his shock, his brow rose.

“ _Cousin_ Seokjin,” His voice was cool, his avoidance of his title all-too purposeful. He was beneath him after all, rank meant everything in this world. “I know you well enough to know that you are aware of tradition, and as much as I bare no ill-feelings towards your equerry, this dais may only be stood on by myself, The Emperor, members of our household, and tributaries. I know that Namjoon doesn’t find himself fitting any of those descriptions.”

He moved his eyes to the silent Namjoon.

The man _radiated_ hostility, in both his facial expression, and body language.

And though it struck him as odd that the man would look at him like that, seeing as they'd only met once or twice before, Taehyung didn’t hesitate to send enough of his own back.

“Will you remove yourself from the dais, Namjoon?” Taehyung raised a brow, and cocked his head. He wondered if he understood the delicate position that he was in. His little paramour might have been the third most powerful person in the Empire, but Seokjin was merely first among his many, _many_ equals. “Or shall I have you removed?”

Taehyung was second only to the Emperor himself, and answerable _only_ to him.

Namjoon, after what seemed only a moment hesitation, bowed at the head without a word, and stepped back. Taehyung made sure to focus his glare evenly on the commoner until he was fully off the dais, and it was only after that when he turned to Seokjin.

The Prince of the Joseon was enraged, his nostrils flared, and hate flourished in his eyes, but it lasted for a moment, _only_ for a moment.

Taehyung assumed that _he_ was the sole person that Seokjin allowed his true feelings to be shown.

“Your Imperial Highness,” To anyone else, his tone might have sounded respectful.

But Taehyung knew that it was tight, forced, and utterly fabricated.

Taehyung smiled.

There was a part of him that happy to indulge in a little pettiness with them.

All his life, he knew that he was going to be forced to play second to his big brother, and apart from some attention issues from their parents, that had never really bothered him. From the moment he entered this world, they all knew that Jimin was destined to sit on the Infinite Throne, but it was far from a foregone conclusion that _he_ would have to. That had allowed him to develop interests outside of being royal, and he knew that some of his lessor relatives had always envied him for his unique position.

“He’s here.” Jungkook whispered into his ear, breaking the confrontation.

The sound of the Imperial Herald slamming his cane against the floor, summoning all attention in the room onto him.

Taehyung merely spared his cousin one more glance before he turned his attention back to the room. Seokjin wisely did the same, while making his way back down the footsteps of the dais.

Taehyung set his sights on simply dressed Imperial Herald, his solid black uniform bearing nothing but a belt, and a silver-embossed symbol of the Imperial House.

He tapped his cane three more times on the floor, as per tradition, and even this drew Taehyung out of his throne, _again_ – as per tradition.

_“All hail His Most Imperial Majesty, Overlord of China and Japan, Emperor of the Joseon, and Ruler of the Earth, all hail Park Jimin, Emperor of the Infinite Empire!”_

Taehyung inwardly rolled his eyes.

But bowed nonetheless.


End file.
